


Evocative

by BlackWiresOnHerHead



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Here have some feelings now EAT THEM, Hurt/Comfort, Lucretia the foodie, Spoilers for The Stolen Century, Stolen Century era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 22:21:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11427390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWiresOnHerHead/pseuds/BlackWiresOnHerHead
Summary: SPOILERS for The Stolen Century.Many of her memories with the twins involve food. Sometimes when Lucretia eats, it’s to remember.





	Evocative

Once a year, every year, Lucretia goes out. 

She dons some formal robes to blend in this time, and with her small scarlet notebook in hand, she sets off to the bustling downtown district of Neverwinter.

When she enters the dimly lit room, the host greets her warmly. They show her to a small table in the back, pulling out the chair for her to sit. Her waiter is a young dragonborn dressed in an elegant black uniform, and his warm amber scales glimmer in the soft lighting as he hands her the menu. 

“That won’t be necessary, sir. Actually, may I ask your name?”

He seems taken aback. “My name is Adrian. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Adrian. I will not be ordering tonight. I’ll gladly take whatever the kitchen wishes to send out. I’m placing myself and my tastebuds in their capable hands.”

Adrian smiles wide. “Delightful, madam. The chef adores patrons such as yourself. I assume for the accompanying drink…?”

Lucretia pats his hand. “I’ll have whatever you recommend be paired with the main course,” she says, and Adrian’s eyes seem to sparkle too.

The chef sends the seafood course to Lucretia’s table, and Adrian provides her with a white Hartsvale wine. As she finishes her meal, she takes out her notebook and writes, _An excellent fish fillet delicately balanced by its tangy citrus sauce._

~~

Lucretia walks into the IPRE conference room fifteen minutes before the meeting is supposed to start. Unsurprisingly, Captain Davenport is already there.

“Hello, Captain.”

“Good morning, Lucretia,” he says with a wave. “Ready to meet your teammates?”

Before she can respond, the door is kicked open with a loud, violent _BANG_. Two elves burst into the room, a large pot and stack of bowls levitating between them in the doorway.

The woman’s eyes widen. “Oh. Oh dag, we didn’t realize you were here already, we thought we’d get here first.”

“Yeah, the kick seems suuuuper unnecessary now, especially in light of the levitation. Uh, just for the record: that was Lup’s idea. That’s our bad, we’ll fix that in a hot second, I promise Cap’n. But first, listen—you have _got_ to try this.”

They float the cookware to the center of the table and when they remove the lid of the pot, an absolutely heavenly scent wafts through the room.

“Open wide, Cap’n,” says the woman, waving a spoonful of whatever they brought. And to Lucretia’s surprise, the captain smiles and obeys without hesitation. 

“Wow. That’s some good stuff, guys,” says Davenport, smacking his lips. “I’m really impressed.”

“Pretty awesome, right?”

The elvish man turns around with a spoon and holds it out to Lucretia. “Hi. I’m Taako, that’s Lup, and this is the best thing you’re going to eat all _fucking_ year.”

“Taako, hi, I’m—”

“Ah ah ah. Food first. Just taste it.”

“Um. Okay.” And she puts the spoon in her mouth.

Lucretia blinks. “Holy shit.” She immediately covers her mouth, eyes wide. “Oh, I’m—I’m so sorry, that was so unprofessional of me, I didn’t mean to—but this is _amazing_. What is this, did you _make_ this?”

The two elves grin with their whole bodies, in the exact same way. 

“This,” says Taako as he gestures grandly to the pot, “is our newest gumbo recipe. It’s the next big thing in food, it’s literally _so_ hot right now. It’s spreading like wildfire, it’s gonna be everywhere in a few months, just watch.”

“But how did you make it? This is... _impossibly_ good.”

“Well—what’s your name, dear?”

“I’m Lucretia. I’ll be the historian for our mission.”

“Oh, that’s rad! Well my dear Lucretia, the secret’s all in the roux. See, when you’re making a roux, the main things are temperature control and constant agitation.”

Lucretia pulls out a small notebook from her robes without even thinking about it and starts writing. 

“You have to watch it like your life depends on it. If it starts sticking to the pan then you have to take it off the heat right away, but you _have to keep stirring_. You cannot let it sit for even a second or the whole thing’s gonna clump up and then it’s just garbage. That’s very important, okay? I want that in your notebook _verbatim_.”

Lup slurps her own bowl of gumbo behind him. “Please excuse my brother, he’s very passionate about his sauces.”

“They are the _only_ thing worth living for and you know it, Lulu.”

The siblings bicker a bit more, and meanwhile Lucretia scrawls: _Sauces - super important._

~~

**

~~

Another year, Lucretia goes to a wine tasting. It’s at a beautiful vineyard deep in the countryside, nothing else around it for miles, and five other people have signed up for the same event. Three of them have serious, focused expressions as they carefully swirl their glasses, but the other two—the ones standing closest to Lucretia—seem to be rather uncomfortable. 

“Why do they keep putting their noses in it first?” one whispers to the other.

“I don’t know, dear,” their companion whispers back. “I’m just here to drink everything they give me.”

“But that guy over there keeps gargling. Is that normal? Hey. _Pssst._ ” And Lucretia suddenly realizes that the speaker, a short human with hair dyed a bright green, is looking right at her. “Have you ever been to one of these before?”

“Me? Oh yes, once or twice.”

“A friend sent us here for our anniversary, but we’re… a tad out of our depth with this one. Do you think you could…” They shrug and gesture at the entire room.

“Explain?” Lucretia offers, and they both nod. “Yes, I think I can be of some help. I understand, these things are rather intimidating the first time around. Well, first of all there’s the wine’s aroma…” And Lucretia tells them to inhale the wine’s scent before they taste, shows them how to swirl their glasses by the stem instead of by the bowl, explains the progression from delicate white wines to the sweet red ones. The couple seems very appreciative of the novelty of these rituals until—

“We’re supposed to _what_?” asks the tall human woman.

“But what’s the point if you don’t drink it?” sputters her significant other.

Lucretia can’t help but smile as she points to the spittoon. “Well for a lot of people, all they want to do is _taste_ as many wines as they can. And if they _drank_ all the wine they wanted to taste, they probably wouldn’t be able to focus much after the third or fourth glass. Does that make sense?”

Her new acquaintances look at each other carefully. “Jamie, will you still love me if I get pretty significantly tipsy right now?”

“My dove, I think I will love you _more_.” And they both tip their heads back and drink deeply from their glasses.

Giggling a little, they turn back to Lucretia. “Thank you for your help, but I don’t think we really have it in us to be a connoisseur like you.”

She waves them off, smiling. “Oh no, to each their own. You’re here for your anniversary, celebrate the way _you_ want to.” 

And as they all depart from the vineyard a few hours later, Lucretia waves goodbye to the couple before she writes in her notebook: _Impressive selection. Offered flavors I’ve never heard of before. Return to try more?_

~~

“Do you ever cook when you’re drunk?” asks Lucretia as she sips the wine that’s supposed to be paired with rare steak and absolutely nothing else under any circumstance or else you’re committing literal blasphemy and don’t deserve to have tastebuds at all.

Lup is suddenly solemn. “The kind of cooking we do sometimes requires very high temperatures. Ridiculously high, even for _me_. And, y’know, we’re dealing with hot grease and a bunch of boiling water all the time. Doing that while intoxicated… well that would be extremely dangerous.”

And with the same stony face, Taako leans forward and says, “So you know we TOTALLY DO! Like, all the time—like at _least_ sixty percent of the time we’re cooking we are just _completely_ wasted.”

The twins high-five without looking at each other, and all three of them cackle with laughter until the wine is gone.

The next morning, Lucretia has... a bit of a hangover. She writes for future reference: _It may be best not to overindulge in wine._

~~

**

~~

One year, Lucretia arrives to the restaurant just in time to be seated.

“Ashlyn Clearwater?” calls out the halfling hostess from the doorway.

“Present,” Lucretia says.

“Excellent. Welcome to Shroud, home to Waterdeep’s singular dining-in-the-dark experience. My name is Circe and I’ll be your waitress for this evening. Have you selected your order for tonight, miss?”

“No, I’m sorry, I haven’t gotten the chance.”

“Perfectly fine, miss. The menu is posted to my left next to this door, unless someone decided to be a scoundrel.” And here the halfling gestures to a simple black-and-white menu pinned to the wall, her eyes glassy and unseeing.

“Oh yes, it is here. Um… how about… bruschetta for the appetizer… and the lamb skewers for the main course, please.”

The halfling grins. “Finger foods. You’re a wise one, Miss Clearwater. Now may I ask if you have any darkvision abilities?”

“I do not.”

“Perfect. In that case, kindly place your hand on my shoulder and I’ll lead you to your table.” And Circe walks Lucretia into the pitch-black room with slow, sure steps.

“What do you do for patrons who have darkvision?” Lucretia can’t help but ask.

“We encourage them to use blindfolds, if they’re open to the idea. Our goal here at Shroud is for you to put as much focus as possible in your sense of taste to provide a sublime dining experience that you’ll never forget.” Their steps slow to a stop. “We’ve arrived at the table now, miss. If you reach out directly to your left you’ll find your chair, and your napkin on the table. I’ll be announcing the arrival of all your food and placing it on the table for you. But in the meantime, let me go get your breadsticks...”

And with that, Circe disappears into the darkness.

Lucretia spends her dinner in a strange state of hyper-awareness. The patrons dining around her are constantly tapping around their respective tables, searching by feel for the things they cannot see. There’s more than a fair amount of laughter too, of people giggling with exhilaration as they become more comfortable without their sight. It’s thrilling, realizing that one can be completely themselves for a short while without being seen. 

Lucretia bids a fond farewell to Circe when she leaves, shaking her hand before the hostess leads the next guests into the restaurant.

In the light of the streetlamps, she pulls out her little red notebook. _An unparalleled eating experience. Exceptional attention paid to flavor transition._

~~

Lucretia is watching the twins begin dinner preparations when she asks, “When you transmute the food, can you taste the difference?” 

At the precise moment Taako confidently answers “No,” Lup says “Sure.” 

“What?” demands Taako. “Wait wait wait wait, hold on hold on. Lup. Are you telling me that you, right now, are one hundred percent able to tell if the food you consume has been transmuted from something else, purely by its taste?”

“I—well—I mean no, not right at this moment, but I don’t think it’s so far-fetched to think that somebody out there could.”

“But even _I_ can’t, and my palate is easily the best one around, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say that it is straight up impossible to taste transmutation. Okay? Im-poss-i-ble.”

Lup puffs up her chest. “Well you know what, bro? That sounds like a challenge.” She leaps up and sticks out her arm for a handshake. “I bet that in one hundred days’ time, _I_ will be able to taste the difference between natural and transmuted food.”

“One hundred days?”

“Yes, one hundred days. I mean, barring y’know, death in this cycle or some other crisis.”

A devious smile stretches across Taako’s face. “Okay. Okay, all right, sure, EXCEPT let’s make this interesting. The loser must… try and convince Merle—in front of _everybody_ —to give them a piggyback ride. And like _really_ try to convince him to do it, okay, you can’t just half-ass this.”

“Taako, I have never half-assed anything in my entire life. Except for maybe that one time when Cousin Jonah tried to get us to do all his chores for him.” 

“Oh yeah, I remember that. Fuck that guy.” 

“Literally the worst cousin ever. But ANYWAY, one hundred days.” And as the twins finalize it with a handshake, Lup suddenly turns. “Wait! Wait wait, Lucretia get over here. You’re the only witness to the agreement, you need some role in this too. Raise your right hand.”

“Um. All right.”

The twins stand still and serious before her. “Lucretia. As witness to this wager between Taako and Lup, do you solemnly promise to uphold this sacred and binding contract by keeping the losing party accountable for fulfilling the punishment agreed upon herein?”

“I—yes?”

“A bit more feeling to it, darling,” encourages Taako.

“Yes, I promise,” Lucretia declares, and Lup grins wide.

In the days that follow, a new routine emerges. Every night for dinner, Lup hands two sets of ingredients to Lucretia—one of natural ingredients, the other transmuted—and instructs her how to cook them. Then Lucretia brings back two seemingly-identical dishes, and Lup takes intermittent bites of both to try and determine which was made with the transmuted ingredients.

Lup does this slowly, methodically, taking up nearly an entire hour every night just sitting and thinking and tasting. Lucretia gets in the habit of asking her what she’s thinking, and they find that she has a knack for articulating some of Lup’s more nebulous thoughts. Pages and pages of Lucretia’s small notebook are filled with notes from these nightly taste tests.

There’s one day in this cycle that turns out rough. Both Magnus and Davenport had died just before dawn in a sudden, massive landslide, and that night during dinner Barry starts outlining a new research regime for their work on the Light of Creation.

At one point Lup gently puts down her fork, takes a deep breath, and drags a hand down her face. “Barry, honey. Listen. You know that I love you very much and you’re pretty much the world to me. It’s just that right now, you’re talking _so_ loud, just like super loud, and it’s ruining how I taste things even though it doesn’t make any sense. And if I’m going to win this bet with Taako, I need to put about ninety-five percent of my concentration into tasting things. And I know this seems kind of small and silly compared to all the other apocalyptic survival stuff we’ve got going on, but… I kind of need to think about something small and silly to keep me going right about now. Do you… do you get me?”

Barry walks over to kneel in front of her, taking both of Lup’s hands. “I getcha. I’m sorry,” he says quietly, and he presses a kiss to her forehead. “You know where I’ll be, just come on over when you’re ready.” And he leaves.

Lup sighs, tired eyes drifting closed, and Lucretia pats her gently on the back. “Well now it’s almost _too_ quiet,” she murmurs and, eyes still closed, Lup brings a forkful of food to her mouth.

And suddenly she pauses. Her head cocks to the side. And she eats a forkful of the other plate’s food. After a long moment, she says, “The plate on the left… is that… is that the one with transmuted carrots?”

The “yes” is barely out of Lucretia’s mouth when Lup starts flailing a little bit, blindly and wildly reaching out for Lucretia’s arm.

“I think I’ve got it, dude,” Lup whisper-shouts before eating another mouthful.

With her free arm, Lucretia picks up her notebook and writes: _Removing other stimuli likely heightens sense of taste._

~~

**

~~

It’s difficult for her to justify her annual night out this year. The Bureau of Balance is just starting to get some traction and she should be there, she should be working, she should be ensuring that her newest plan can and will actually go through, it’s the only hope she has of getting her friends back…

But she is so tired. And she is unbearably lonely tonight.

And so she finds the time to go to Morgan’s, where the food is fried to perfection and the only thing warmer than the cozy, crowded house decoration is the staff.

“What brought you here all by your lonesome, doll?” drawls the waitress as she picks up Lucretia’s empty plates.

Lucretia’s smile is small and sad. “Oh, well… my brother and sister were chefs. They loved cooking, it was their whole life and soul, their pride and joy. They’re, uh… they’re gone now. And when I miss them, I go to eat something they’d enjoy and I write everything down so I can… um.” She touches the small crimson notebook. “So I can... tell them about it later.” 

The waitress only looks at her for a few moments. “You sit tight there, darlin’. I’ll be right back.” 

She returns a minute later with an absurdly large slice of dark, rich chocolate cake and places it on the table. “S’on the house. When you’re finished, you just get on up and leave. Check’s already paid for.” 

Lucretia stares. “I… Th-Thank you.”

“You take care now, ma’am. Especially of yourself.” 

_Their food tastes like comfort and this cake tastes like kindness_ , she writes to her absent friends, and it brings Lucretia to tears.

~~

Later, much later, Taako stands in front of Lucretia and holds out a macaron, and as soon as it touches her tongue Lucretia closes her eyes. 

Because yes, there it is. That impossible, unnameable quality about all the food the twins ever made. Was it in the aftertaste, the way the flavors transform the longer it stays? Did they always use magic to make the texture so perfect? Or could you simply taste the undiluted love they have for their work?

It’s said that memories strongly connected to the sense of taste can be the most vivid, and now Lucretia can believe it, because as the sugar dissolves on her tongue, it feels as though all of her heartstrings are being pulled tight. For a moment she is transported back to the Starblaster, surrounded by her family once again on one of those ordinary, quiet nights. And though her whole body aches to be there again, she opens her eyes and lets reality return.

She gives herself half a moment to gaze at Taako. She can’t tell him what this one taste means to her, and it breaks her heart.

“Hot diggity shit,” says Lucretia, and her voice is steady.

And there’s that same whole-body grin that Taako does when his food sweeps a person away. “That’s what we do.”

“That is one _baller_ cookie. How did you even do this?”

“The secret,” he begins conspiratorially, “is to get the almonds ground down reeeeally fine…”

And with the same eagerness she’s always had, Lucretia scribbles it all down. 

At the end of the day, when she’s alone in her office and savoring the last elderflower macaron with silent, wistful tears falling down her face, she pulls out her weathered scarlet notebook again and turns to a fresh page. 

_Your cookies taste like home._

**Author's Note:**

> Hooo boy, there was this one [headcanon](http://bodhimian-rhapsody.tumblr.com/post/162537846885/spoilery-taz-headcanon/) that just would NOT let me go and then it shaped up to become this thing. Taako’s love of food is one of my favorite things about him and sometimes I get kind of emotional about it??? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading! Send me a “hail and well met” over on [tumblr](http://blackwiresgrowonherhead.tumblr.com/) so I can cry about this show with more people.


End file.
